Drumming Noise
by libbyQuin
Summary: Mitchell is sick with the hunger. The sound of a thousand beating hearts taunts him and pushes him to the limit. Based on 'Drumming Song', by Florence and the Machine.


**A/N: Well, so much for 'no more BH fics until I've seen more episodes!'  
This is kinda a songfic, I guess. I mean, it was inspired by the song _Drumming Noise_ by Florence + the Machine, which is a freaking amazing song and you should definately listen to it. Because Flo is incredible. I used some lyrics from it in this story - that's the italicised lines, so they're Flo's, not mine - but they're not that important so if you want you can ignore them. But it really is better if you didn't. :D  
As usual, I beg you to review, because if you don't my turtle will die. Do you really want that on your conscious? Or, even worse, if you don't review, Mitchell will emege from TV World, hunt you down, and kill you. And no, he won't take you to bed before doing so, unfortunately ;D  
Yeah, I'm trying to force you into reviewing. Nyah! :P  
I own nothing! Nothing!**

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**Drumming Noise**

Mitchell paced from one busy street to another, walking in haphazard circles with no idea of where he was going. He'd spent all morning in bed, with the thick curtains drawn, alternating between sweating and shivering, with a throbbing pain in his head and feeling sick to his stomach. It was like the worst migraine and the worst flu had gotten together to wage war on his body. He'd been through it before but you could never get used to that sort of agony – especially when you knew exactly what to do to end it.

Mid-afternoon, he'd been overcome with the restlessness and feelings of panic and anxiety that were, in a way, worse than the pain. His body had warned him that he was _hungry_, and now it was urging him to get out and do something about it.

He knew that it was now that he was at his most dangerous, and yet he couldn't stop himself from leaving the flat to walk amongst the innocent public, like a shark swimming through a school of fish.

The late-afternoon sun was low in the sky and not overly bright, but it made Mitchell feel dizzy and weak. He was already sick with hunger and the light sapped his strength further. But he couldn't return home. The insatiable desire to feed drove him forward regardless of anything else. Right now he felt that he could stagger through Vatican City and attack the Pope if that was the only way he could feed.

Mitchell reeled forward and grabbed a lamppost to try and steady himself. He knew he probably looked dodgy as hell, standing there with his black coat and dark glasses, holding his head with one gloved hand and gripping the lamppost for dear life with the other. But it didn't matter to him. Nothing mattered, apart from the ravaging hunger.

_There's a drumming noise inside my head  
That starts when you're around_

People swirled past him and Mitchell cringed as the sound of their heartbeats filled his head. Some faster than others, some uneven, some louder and some quieter – the hearts of everyone surrounding him on the busy street drilled into his skull.

_There's a drumming noise inside my head  
__That throws me to the ground_

The sound of a thousand beating hearts washed through Mitchell, forcing him to imagine the blood flowing in waves through the veins of the people around him. The sound was almost unbearable, like an army of dinner bells going off in his head, encouraging him to drink…_feed_…

_I swear that you should hear it  
__It makes such an almighty sound_

He looked up and around at the multitude of potential victims. The noise of the city – the car horns, the construction, the yelling and laughing – had dulled to a distant drone in the face of the incessant, resounding thud of the city's beating hearts. Mitchell could hear every one of them, each one belonging to a person with blood in their veins and ignorance in their eyes.

_Louder than sirens  
__Louder than bells  
__Sweeter than heaven  
__And hotter than hell_

He was high on the sound. The prospect of being able to bite down and feel the warm liquid gushing over his tongue was driving out his pain and his weakness and his reason. He knew he shouldn't, knew that he'd be undoing everything he'd worked towards, but the invasive thumping drowned out his rationality and filled him with the undeniable bloodlust that he'd tried so hard to defeat.

_As I move my feet  
__Towards your body  
__I can feel this beat_

From amongst the myriad of heartbeats Mitchell singled out one pulse. It was a slow, erratic rhythm - denoting weak prey. He knew that he'd never be able to hunt down and overcome any fit human in his pathetic state. His hunger drove him forward like adrenaline drives a wounded soldier in battle, but Mitchell couldn't handle a real hunt. He started to lurch forward, moving to the unsteady beat of the heart he was tracking, like a tribal warrior dancing to the rhythm of the drums.

_It fills my head up and gets louder and louder_

As he staggered towards his prey Mitchell was overwhelmed by the sound of its heartbeat. Everything else was swallowed up by its insistent, hypnotic pulsing. The world could fall out of existence and he wouldn't even notice, so long as that heartbeat didn't stop.

_It fills my head up and gets louder and louder_

Mitchell tracked his prey to an alley off the main street. The smell of trash and piss hung heavy in the air but all he could smell was the tangy aroma of blood.

His quarry was squatting amidst the black rubbish bags with a bottle of whiskey in his hands. An old homeless drunk, as filthy as his surroundings, with a blanket wrapped around his wretched form. Mitchell approached him silently, his movements steadier now that his crosshair was resting on his target's neck.

_I run to the river and dive straight in  
__I pray that the water will drown out the din_

Mitchell shot forward and grabbed the man by the throat, lifting him and pinning him to the wall. The drunk's dull eyes widened in shock and terror as Mitchell's turned black and his fangs slid out. He tightened his grip as the man struggled fitfully, relishing the power he held over this pitiful figure. This man was nothing to anyone, and to Mitchell he was even less. He was the lamb, and Mitchell was the slaughter.

_But as the water fills my mouth  
__It couldn't wash the echoes out_

Mitchell sank his fangs into the man's neck. He ignored the hoarse screams of his prey as he fed greedily on the blood that surged from the wounds he'd inflicted. The man's heartbeat had increased violently, a deafening pounding in Mitchell's ears, pushing the blood into his waiting mouth. It tasted of a lifetime of alcoholism but Mitchell didn't care, because it was _blood_ and he could feel it coursing through his body, returning his strength and making him feel alive.

The man's screams died away into soft, pitiful moans as his heartbeat slowly subsided before stopping altogether. Mitchell continued to feed voraciously, sucking the blood from the man's body, emptying his veins and arteries quickly and efficiently. A killing machine.

_I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole  
__Till there's nothing left inside my soul  
__As empty as that beating drum_

Mitchell let the man's pale, bloodless corpse fall to the dirty ground and wiped his mouth. His fangs shrank back into his gums and he waited for the moment of guilt and self-disgust. But even as he stared into his victim's dead eyes, it didn't come. He felt as remorseless and apathetic as he had a moment ago, when he had been a ravenous animal, a bloodthirsty predator. No-one had cared about this homeless drunk while he'd been living, and no-one cared now that he was dead. Mitchell had done the world a favour by getting rid of him, really.

He smirked as he looked down on the ugly carcass, then turned and left the alley.

_Louder than sirens  
__Louder than bells  
__Sweeter than heaven  
__And hotter than hell_

Mitchell prowled insidiously back through the crowded streets, a lion hiding in the long grass in the midst of the antelope. The pedestrians churned around him, ignorant of what he could do to them. He could hear their heartbeats, but they were no longer the sound of agonising temptation. They had morphed into the sound of a challenge.

_It fills my head up and gets louder and louder_

With his strength returned, Mitchell felt a different kind of bloodlust well up inside of him. It was the sanguinary, primal desire to single out prey, stalk it, chase it down, and suck out its life, all the while relishing the power he held over it. The craving was inherent, natural. He was an animal, made to hunt. He'd been wrong to try and deny his nature.

He felt a savage pleasure in watching the women who walked past, envisioning how he'd seduce and then destroy them. Their heartbeats pounded in his head as he imagined how he could speed them up and then slow them down, before stopping them forever.

_Louder than sirens  
__Louder than bells  
__Sweeter than heaven  
__And hotter than hell  
__It fills my head up and gets louder and louder_


End file.
